THE DISEASED EYES.
Upward of a month had elapsed since the victory of La Rothiere, and
Blucher's ardent wish had not yet been fulfilled; the allies were
not in Paris. The system of procrastination had again obtained the
upper hand at the headquarters of the allies. Austria hesitated to
use her power in a decisive manner against Napoleon, the emperor's
son-in-law; the crown prince of Sweden wished to spare France, and
was still in hope that the congress, which had been in session at
Chatillon since the 4th of February, would conclude a treaty of
peace. Among the very attendants of the Emperor of Russia and the
King of Prussia this peace party had its active supporters, who
opposed an energetic policy, and wished the congress of Chatillon,
and not the army, to put an end to the war.
Blucher once had dared openly to oppose these "peace apostles," and
disregarded the instructions received from the allied monarchs to
move farther back from Paris, and, instead of crossing the Seine,
retreat with his army to Chaumont and Langres. This order filled the
field-marshal with anger, and his generals and staff-officers shared
it. Great as he was in all his actions, Blucher took the bold
resolution to pay no attention to the retrograde movements of
Schwartzenberg and the crown prince of Sweden, but to continue his
march, even at the risk of appearing in front of Paris without
support.
But it was not as a rebel that he had wished to take so daring a
step; on the contrary, before moving, he wrote to King Frederick
William, and implored him to fulfil his wish, and allow him to
advance. He did not wait, however, for the king's answer, but,
though he knew that the commander-in-chief, Prince Schwartzenberg,
had already commenced retreating, continued to march with his
Silesian army alone upon the capital of France.
The monarchs themselves were of Blucher's opinion, and gave him full
power, having his army reenforced by the corps of Bulow and
Winzingerode. With his forces thus increased to twice their original
strength, he was able to confront Napoleon, and attack Paris even
without Schwartzenberg's assistance. But the fortune of war is
fickle, and he did not continue his march without experiencing this.
On the 7th of March he fought a bloody battle with Napoleon and his
marshals between Soissons and Craonne, and, to his profound regret,
was defeated, and forced to retreat.
He took revenge at Laon, where he and his brave Silesian army gained
a victory on the 9th of March. This was followed by still another.
He at length silenced the "trubsalsspritzen" and "peace apostles,"
who had up to this time raised their influential voices at
headquarters. All felt that a retreat, after this great victory, was
entirely out of the question, and even Schwartzenberg and Bernadotte
joined in Blucher's "Forward!" and marched their armies to Paris.
But the brave field-marshal himself was at this time unable to join
in the movement. Since the battle of Laon he had been affected with
a violent inflammation of the eyes, aggravated by a fever. Confined
to his dark room, he was obliged to remain ten days at Laon,
suffering not only physical but mental pain. For how could he redeem
his pledge--how achieve a final victory over Napoleon--if, half-
blind and doomed to the captivity of a sick-room, he could not march
with his troops, and lead them in person into battle? Regardless of
the warnings of his physicians, he tried to brave his sufferings,
and, putting himself at the head of his troops, again advanced with
them. Finally, on the 24th of March, by way of Rheims, he arrived at
Chalons. But the inflammation of his eyes had grown worse on the
road, and gave him intolerable pain; the fever sent his blood like
fire through his veins, and what neither age, nor defeat, nor
disappointed hope, had been able to accomplish, was accomplished by
sickness. He grew faint-hearted--his disease destroyed his
enthusiasm. Longing for tranquillity, he remembered how beautiful
and peaceful his dear Kunzendorf was, how kind and mild the sweet
face of his Amelia, and with what soft hands she would wash his
inflamed eyes, and apply the remedies.
During the last march from Rheims to Chalons he constantly thought
of this. At length he made up his mind, and no sooner had he arrived
at Chalons than he sent for Hennemann, and locked himself in his
room with him.
"Christian," said Blucher, in a subdued voice, "I am going to see
whether you are really a faithful fellow, and whether I may confide
something to you."
"Very well, field-marshal, put me to the test."
"Not so loud!" cried Biucher, anxiously. "Let us first discover
whether any one can hear us here." He opened the door, and looked
into the antechamber. No one was there. He then examined the dark
alcove adjoining the sitting-room, which was empty, too. "We are
alone; no one can overhear us," said Blucher, returning from his
reconnoissance to the sitting-room. "Now, pipe-master, listen to me.
First, however, look at my eyes, do you hear; look closely at them.
Well, how do they look?"
"Very sore," said Christian, mournfully.
"And they have not grown better, though Voelzke, the surgeon-general
has been doctoring them every day; and, by his salves, mixtures,
leeches, and blisters, causing me almost as much pain as the eyes
themselves. Nay, they grow rather worse from day to day, and if I
remain here longer, and allow the physicians to torment me, I shall
finally lose my eyesight altogether, and when I am blind, I shall be
of no account--unable to use my sword and fight Bonaparte. I am
afraid the good God will not permit me to pull down Bonaparte from
his throne. He knows I should then be too happy, and therefore says,
'Gotthold Leberecht Blucher, I have permitted thee to bring
Bonaparte to the brink of ruin; now thine armies are close to Paris,
and will, without thee, get into the city. Go, therefore, old boy,
and have thine eyes cured!' Well, I will comply with God's will, and
go to some place and have myself healed, where they know better how
to do it than our doctors here. I have been told that there are
excellent oculists at Brussels, and Brussels is not very far from
here. I will, therefore, go there."
"The field-marshal intends to retreat, then?" said Christian,
laconically.
"Retreat!" cried Blucher, angrily. "Who takes the liberty of saying
that Field-Marshal Blucher intends to retreat?"
"I take that liberty," said Christian. "The field-marshal intends to
retreat from the inflammation of his eyes."
"Why, yes; that is an enemy from which it is no disgrace to
retreat."
"A retreat is always a retreat," said Christian, with a shrug, "and
if you carry out your intention you will no longer be called Marshal
Forward!"
"I do not care to be called so now!" exclaimed Blucher. "The
inflammation of my eyes has made me desperate; I shall lose my sight
if I stay here, and then they will lead me by the nose like a blind
bear. There is no use in talking any more about it; I will and must
go. If you do not wish to accompany me say so, and you may stay
here."
"If you go, then I will too," said Christian, with his usual
calmness, "for where the field-marshal is the pipe-master must be;
that is a matter of course. I have pledged my word to my father, to
Madame von Blucher, and to the good God, that I would never leave my
general, and it makes no difference if he is field-marshal now. If
they do not shoot me, I shall stay with my field-marshal."
"Christian," said Blucher, offering him his hand, "you are a dear
boy; your heart is in the right place, and it is always the best
thing in a man. When we get back to Kunzendorf you shall lead a very
pleasant life, for I can never forget what a faithful and excellent
young fellow you have been. Then you will go with me?"
"Yes, to the end of the world, general!"
"Well, we shall not go so far as that--only to Brussels, where there
are good oculists; and when they have cured me, I will see whether
they still need me here, and whether every thing has then been done
to my liking."
"Oh, I believe it will be then as it is now," said Christian, in a
contemptuous tone. "When Marshal Forward is no longer here, things
will go backward, that is sure. But we need not care, for we shall
go forward to Brussels."
"Yes, to Brussels," said Blucher; "we set out to-night; but no one
must know it; I will leave as quietly as possible. I cannot stand
bidding them all farewell, and listening to their fine speeches; I
will leave, therefore, so that no one shall discover it before I am
gone."
"A secret flight!" said Christian, laconically.
"Secret flight? how stupid!" grumbled Blucher. "It is strange what
ridiculous words the boy uses! How a flight? I believe I am no
prisoner."
"No, but you are field-marshal."
Blucher's red eyes cast an angry glance on the bold pipe-master.
"You talk as you understand it," he cried; "when I am a poor blind
fellow, swallowing powders and using salves all day I am no longer a
field-marshal and had better resign, not waiting to be deposed by a
few polite phrases. That is the reason why I am going to leave."
"And I leave, too," said Christian; "but as the field-marshal does
not wish me to say any thing about it, of course I shall not. But
how are we to get away, if no one is to be informed?"
"Well, listen! I will tell you. I have already devised the whole
plan of operations, and--but, hark! something seems moving in the
alcove, as if a door opened."
"There is no door in the alcove," said Christian; "it was, perhaps,
a mouse, and it tells no tales. Inform me, field-marshal, what I
have to do."
"Well, listen, Christian!" And the field-marshal began to explain to
him, in his vivacious manner, the whole plan of his departure.
Christian comprehended it, and entered very seriously into the
duties of quartermaster-general to his field-marshal.
"Do you remember it all now?" asked Blucher, at the conclusion of
their conference. "Do you know all that you have to do?"
"I know all," said Christian. "In the first place, I am to go to
General Gneisenau and inform him that the field-marshal is sick and
confined to his bed to-day, and refuses to see any one. General
Gneisenau will mention it, of course, to Surgeon-General Dr.
Voelzke, who will come to see the field-marshal. I am to tell him
that he is in so much pain from his inflamed eyes that he had
ordered me to admit no one--that he is trying to sleep. Then I am to
come back to you, and your excellency will give me the farewell
letters to General Gneisenau, whereupon I am to pack up your things
and lock the bags. When it grows dark, I am to carry them secretly
into our carriage. Then it will suddenly occur to your excellency to
take an airing, the sun having set, and therefore unable to hurt
your eyes. I am to accompany you, and we shall not come back."
"No, we shall not come back," said Blucher, thoughtfully. "Well,
every thing is settled now; run, and attend to what I told you. We
shall set out at seven o'clock to-night."
Christian hastened away. Blucher looked after him with a mournful
glance and a deep sigh. "The die is cast," he murmured to himself;
"now I am indeed a poor old invalid, no longer of any use. God has
refused to fulfil my dearest wish; He would not let me hurl
Bonaparte from his stolen throne. I must face about at the gates of
Paris, and creep back into obscurity. Well, let God's will be done!
I have labored as long as there was daylight; now comes the night,
when I can work no more. Ah, my poor sore eyes! I--but there is,
after all, some one in the alcove," cried Blucher, springing to his
feet. Again he heard a noise as of footsteps, and an opening door.
He bounded into the alcove, but all was still; no one was there, and
no door to be seen. "I was mistaken," he said. "A bad conscience is
a very queer thing. Because I am about to do something secret, I am
thinking that eavesdroppers are watching me and trying to forestall
me."
It was seven in the evening; the sun had set. Field-Marshal Blucher,
who was very sick all day, now intended to take an airing. The pipe-
master had, therefore, ordered the coachman; and the field-marshal's
carriage, drawn by four black horses, had just come to the door.
Blucher was still in his room, but all his preparations were
completed. On the table lay two letters--one addressed to the king,
the other to General Gneisenau; the carpet-bags had already been
conveyed into the carriage, together with his pipe-box. The invalid
had only to wrap himself in his military cloak, leave the room, and
enter the carriage; but he still hesitated. An anxiety, such as he
had never known before, had crept over him; and, what had never
before happened to him, his heart beat with fear. "That was just
wanting to me," he murmured. "I have become a white-livered coward,
whose legs are trembling, and whose heart is throbbing! What am I
afraid of, then? Is that wrong which I am about to do? My heart has
never acted thus even in the storm of battle. What does it mean?
Bah! it is folly; no attention should be paid to it. I hope,
however, that no one will meet me when I go down-stairs, or at the
carriage when I enter it. Let me see if there is any one in the
street." He quickly stepped to the window and looked out; there was
no one in the street, or near his carriage. "I will go now," said
Blucher, turning again toward the room. "I--" He paused, and a blush
suffused his cheeks. There, in the middle of the room, stood General
Gneisenau, and gazed at him with a strange, mournful air.
"Gneisenau, is it you?" asked Blucher, in a faltering voice. "How
did you get in?"
"Simply by the door, your excellency," said Gneisenau, smiling.
"Your pipe-master kept the door closed all day, and turned me away
by informing me the field-marshal had ordered him to admit no one,
because he wished to sleep; but my desire to see you brought me back
again and again, and so I have come, fortunately at the opportune
hour, when the Cerberus is no longer at the door, but is standing
below at the carriage, waiting for the field-marshal, who intends to
take an airing."
"Yes, I do," said Blucher, casting an anxious glance on the two
letters lying on the table. "I do intend to take an airing; good-by,
then, Gneisenau!" He turned toward the door, but Gneisenau kept him
back. "Your excellency must not ride out to-night," he said; "I
implore you not to do so. There is a cold wind, and you must not
expose your inflamed eyes to it. You are not careful enough of your
health; Surgeon-General Voelzke complains of the little attention
you pay to his proscriptions, and that your eyes, instead of getting
better, are growing worse and worse."
"Yes, that is true," grumbled Blucher, "they are burning like fire.
I will go out, therefore; the night-wind will cool them."
He turned again toward the door, but at this moment it was thrust
open, and Surgeon-General Voelzke entered the room. "I am told your
excellency intends to take an airing," said the physician, almost
indignantly. "But I declare that I cannot permit it. You have
intrusted yourself to my treatment; I am responsible to God, to the
king, to the whole world--nay, to history, if I allow you to rush so
recklessly to destruction; I will not suffer it; your excellency
must not ride out!"
"I should like to see who is to prevent me!" cried Blucher, striding
toward the door.
"The physician will prevent you," said Voelzke, standing in the
doorway with his large, tall form. "The physician has the right of
giving orders to kings and emperors, and Marshal Forward has to
submit to his commands, too."
"I do not think of it," said Blucher; "I do not permit any one to
give me orders."
"Not even your disease--your inflamed eyes?" asked Voelzke,
solemnly. "Did you not obey when your fever and inflamed eyes
commanded you to remain idle at Laon for ten days, although you were
in a towering passion, and were bent on advancing with the army?
Well, your excellency, I tell you, if you do not now obey me. and
consent to desist from taking an airing--if you are determined to
ride out in the cold night-air, one more powerful than I am will
compel you to obey; and that one is your disease. You may ride out
today, but to-morrow it will command you to keep your bed, the
inflammation of your eyes will make you a prisoner, and you will be
unable to flee from it, notwithstanding your imperious will, or your
four-horsed carriage."
"Well, well," said Blucher, "you put on such solemn airs as almost
to frighten me. It is true, my disease is very powerful, and this
soreness of my eyes has already rendered me so desperate that--"
"That your excellency has written letters," interposed Gneisenau,
pointing to the table. "But, what do I see? There is one addressed
to me!"
"No, give it to me," cried Blucher, embarrassed; "now that you are
here, I can tell you every thing verbally, and it is unnecessary for
you to read what I have written."
He was about to seize the letter, but Gneisenau drew hack a step,
and, bowing deeply said, "Your excellency has done me the honor of
writing to me. Permit me, therefore, to read." He stepped quickly
into the window-niche, and opened the letter.
"Well, stand back there, doctor," cried Blucher, "let me out! Do not
make me angry; leave the door!"
"I do not care if you are angry, your excellency," said the surgeon-
general, folding his arms, "but in order to get me out of this
doorway you will have to kill me."
At this moment, Gneisenau uttered a cry of terror, and hastened
toward Blucher. "What! your excellency," he exclaimed, "you intend
to leave us? To set out secretly?"
"What do you say?" thundered the physician. "What did my patient
intend to do?"
"He intends to forsake us--his army that worships him, his friends
who idolize him, his king who hopes in him--he intends to leave us
all!" said Gneisenau, mournfully. "It is written here, doctor; I may
mention it to you, for you are one of our most devoted friends."
"And he intends also to leave his physician; he will go, and get
blind!" exclaimed Voelzke, reproachfully.
"Well, it is precisely because I do not wish to get blind that I
must move from here," said Blucher, who had now recovered his
firmness, and felt relieved, since his secret had been disclosed.
"What am I, a poor blind old man, to do longer in the field? I am
fit for nothing. In the end I shall perhaps fare like old Kutusoff,
whom they dragged along with the army. Thus would they drag me when
I am no longer myself." [Footnote: Blucher's words.--Vide Varnhagun,
"Prince Blucher of Wahlstatt," p. 373]
"But," said the physician, "your excellency is not blind; you will
be well in two weeks if you only resolve to comply with my
prescriptions, use the remedies I give you, and punctually obey my
instructions. You intend to go to Brussels, where you will certainly
find celebrated physicians; but they do not know you; they will only
doctor your eyes, not suspecting that the seat of your disease is in
your nerves, and that your eyes are unhealthy because your mind is
suffering. And it will suffer still more when you have deserted your
army, your friends--nay, I may say, your duty. The strange
surroundings, the want of care, the unknown physicians, your anxiety
at being ignorant of what the army is doing--all this will torture
your soul, and aggravate the disease of your eyes."
"It is true, I shall be very lonely in a foreign city," said
Blucher, thoughtfully; "but it is, after all, better than to stay
here as a useless, blind old man. I can never again command an army
or direct a battle."
"If you cannot command an army in person, you can by your words,"
exclaimed Gneisenau; "and if you cannot direct the battle with your
arms, you can do so with your spirit; for that fires our hearts as
long as you are with us, and bids defiance to the adversaries and
hesitating diplomatists. If your person leaves us, your spirit does
also, and with Marshal Forward we lose all prospect of marching
forward. Consider this, your excellency; consider that you endanger
not only the welfare of your army, but the success of the war; for
when you are not present, all will go wrong."
"Well, you will be here, Gneisenau," said Blucher; "you are half
myself; you know my thoughts just as well as I do--nay, you often
know them much better! You will, therefore, carry on all just as
though I were still here."
"But shall I have the power to do so?" asked Gneisenau. "Your
excellency did not take into the account that when you leave the
army, and give up your position as commander-in-chief, another
general must be appointed in your stead. Who will receive this
nomination? The senior general is Langeron, and do you consider him
qualified to replace you?"
"Well, that would be a pretty thing, if HE should become commander-
in-chief!" cried Blucher. "The confusion and wrangling that would
ensue would baffle description; for York and Bulow would be even
more disobedient to him than they are to me."
"But he would have to take command of the army until orders from
headquarters arrived appointing another general-in-chief. We might
have to wait a long time; for we are distant from the allied
monarchs now, and they, moreover, will not hasten to make that
appointment. Until this is done, Langeron will command the army, and
thereby I, the quartermaster-general, as well as Colonels Muffling
and Grolman, will be completely paralyzed in the discharge of our
duties, or even lose our positions, which your excellency has always
said we filled to your satisfaction, and in a manner conducive to
the welfare of the army. If you go now, you thereby deprive three
men of their places, although they feel strong enough yet to serve
their country."
"It is true, I have not thought of that," said Blucher, embarrassed.
"It did not occur to me that I should have a successor here, and
that he might be so stupid as to be unable to appreciate my
Gneisenau, and the brave Colonels Muffling and Grolman. No, no, that
will not do; Langeron must not become commander-in-chief."
"If you leave us, he will surely have that position, and our brave
Silesian army will then be headed by a Russian. No, field-marshal,
you must not go. You have no right to quit the army so arbitrarily,
and without the king's permission!"
"Well, I should like to see who would prevent me!" cried Blucher,
defiantly.
"Your noble soul, your devotion to duty, and your love of country,
will prevent you," said Gneisenau. "You will refuse to abandon your
work before it is completed. You will not incur the disgrace of
confessing to all the world that you are unable to fulfil your word-
-not to rest before having overthrown Napoleon, and made your
entrance into Paris. Nor will you tarnish your glory on account of
your eyes. You will not become a faithless father and friend to your
soldiers, whom you have so often greeted as your children, and who
have always confided in you; nor will you break our courage and
paralyze our souls by deserting us in this manner."
"It is true, I did not think sufficiently on this matter," murmured
Blucher to himself--"Voelzke," he then cried aloud, "you pledge me
your word of honor that you can cure me?"
"I swear it to your excellency by all that is sacred that, if you
take care of yourself, and comply with my prescriptions, you will be
cured in the course of two weeks."
"Well," said Blucher, after a short reflection, "in that case I will
yield, and stay."
"Heaven be praised, your excellency!" cried Gneisenau, tenderly
embracing Blucher, "you are still my noble field-marshal, who will
not desert his army, his fatherland, and his friends, for the sake
of his individual comfort."
"Yes, I will stay," said Blucher; "but as I have to obey the grim
doctor there, and submit to his treatment thoroughly, as a matter of
course I cannot work and make the necessary dispositions, but leave
this to my head--to Gneisenau alone. I lend you my name for two
weeks, and know that you will make good use of it. But if at the end
of that time, doctor, I am not yet well, then, beware! May the Lord
have mercy on your soul! for you will certainly get yourself into
trouble."
"Your excellency," cried a loud voice outside, at this moment--"your
excellency, are you not coming at all?" The door of the anteroom was
violently thrust open, and the pipe-master appeared on the
threshold. "It is past eight o'clock," he exclaimed, "and--" He
paused on perceiving the two gentlemen, and was about to retire very
quickly.
"Come here, pipe-master," exclaimed Blucher, "come here and look at
me. Now tell me, pipe-master, have you been a chatterbox, after all,
and told these two gentlemen what was the object of our airing?"
"No, your excellency; I have not uttered a word about it to any
one," replied the pipe-master, solemnly. "I have been as dumb as a
fish; only in secret have I complained of my distress; and, when
that did not relieve me, and I still felt as though my heart would
burst, I did what I have learned to do from the field-marshal: I
went to my room, closed the door, and swore in the most fearful
manner! That relieved my heart, and I proceeded to do all your
excellency charged me with."
"First, therefore, you had to swear?" asked Blucher, drawing his
long mustache through his fingers. "You were, then, greatly
dissatisfied with my departure?"
"I did not conceal it from your excellency. I told you honestly that
you would no longer be called Marshal Forward if you retreated."
"Yes, retreat--that is just what he said," exclaimed Blucher,
laughing, and turning again toward the two gentlemen; "and when I
told him I would leave the army and set out for Brussels he remarked
that it was a secret flight."
"The pipe-master is an honest man, who loves his master," said
Gneisenau, kindly smiling on him. "I have often and urgently begged
him to-day to announce me to the field-marshal; but he persisted in
replying that he was not allowed to do so, and that he was ordered
to admit no one."
"And I would have given my little-finger, if I could have admitted
General Gneisenau, and Dr. Voelzke, too; for I knew that, as soon as
they would be with the field-marshal, his departure would not be
very soon. As they are here now--though I do not know how they got
here so unexpectedly--I suppose, field-marshal, we shall not set
out, and I may send the horses back to the stable?"
"Yes, you may," said Blucher. "But wait, Christian, do not go yet; I
have first to say a few words to these gentlemen, and you may
listen. I will stay here, then, but on one condition. Will you
fulfil it?"
"Yes, your excellency," cried Gneisenau and Voelzke at the same
time.
"Well, tell me, then, how did you discover that I intended to start
to-day, the pipe-master having said nothing about it to you? For I
shall never believe that both of you could happen to come to me at
so unusual an hour, and without any reason. Reply--who told you that
I was about to leave?"
"You yourself, your excellency," said Surgeon-General Voelzke.
"What, I! What nonsense is this!" cried Blucher, laughing.
"Yes, I heard it from yourself. Do you not remember that you heard a
mouse rustle in your alcove?"
"To be sure, I did; I heard it twice."
"Well, then, the mouse was myself! I discovered a small secret side-
door in your room, and desired to know whither it led. I therefore
thrust it open, and was in your alcove; just as I entered I heard
your voice, saying, 'It is settled, then, Christian, I shall set out
for Brussels to-night, but no one must know a word about it!' Your
excellency, I confess my crime: I stood and listened; only when the
pipe-master left your room did I softly creep away, too, and hasten
to General Gneisenau to inform him of what I had heard."
"Let us examine the alcove more carefully, pipe-master," said
Blucher, "and see whether there is not somewhere else a secret door.
Well, you may go now, Hennemann, and send the horses back to the
stable."
"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed Christian, hastening out of the room.
But scarcely had he closed the door, when he thrust it open again.
"Field-marshal," he said, "General von Pietrowitch, adjutant of the
Emperor of Russia, wishes to see your excellency immediately."
"Come in, general," exclaimed Blucher; and offering his hand to the
officer, he asked hastily, "tell me, in the first place, general,
whether you bring good or bad news?"
"I believe I bring what Marshal Forward would call good news," said
the general, smiling. "I come as a messenger from the emperor my
master, and the king your master, and am commissioned to inform you
of the determination taken at headquarters, and to obtain your
consent and cooperation."
"Is it a secret mission?" asked Gneisenau.
"On the contrary, the whole army will have to hear it tonight," said
the general. "My first news, then, is, that the congress of
Chatillou was dissolved on the 19th of March."
"Without leading to any results?" asked Blucher, breathlessly.
"Without agreeing on a treaty of peace, or an armistice?"
"Nothing of the kind, your excellency. The congress has had an
entirely opposite result--the speedy and energetic prosecution of
the war. All the diplomatists, and the Emperor Francis with them,
after the dissolution of the congress, retired southward to Dijon."
"And Schwartzenberg?" cried Blucher.
"Prince Schwartzenberg remained, and held a council of war with the
monarchs yesterday near Vitry. The result of this I am commissioned
to communicate to you. The resumption of the offensive against Paris
has been decided upon. Prince Schwartzenberg agrees with the
sovereigns that Paris is the decisive point, and that it is all-
important for us to cut off Napoleon from the capital, and take the
city before he is able to reach it. Prince Schwartzenberg,
therefore, sends word to your excellency that from this day all his
standards are turned toward Paris, and that the army of Bohemia is
marching in three columns. To-night they encamp at Fere Champeuoise,
where the headquarters of the allies are to be. Now, Prince
Schwartzenberg invites you to participate with the Silesian army in
this advance, starting at once, and advancing by the road of
Montmirail and La Ferte-sous-Jonarre, and then form a connection
with the army of Bohemia." [Footnote: Beitzke, vol. iii., p. 431.]
"Yes, I shall certainly do so," joyfully cried Blucher. "Hurrah!
This is good news; now the word is not only with us, but everywhere,
'Forward!' Tell their majesties, and, above all, Prince
Schwartzenberg, that they have made me very happy, and have
performed a truly miraculous cure. I was sick and desponding; now,
since you have come, I am again well and in good spirits. I feel no
longer any pain, and my eyes will be all right again, now that they
know that they are to see the city of Paris. I thought that it would
come to this--that my brave brother Schwartzenberg would at length
agree with me. We shall soon now put an end to the war. Bonaparte
must be dethroned, and that speedily." [Footnote: Blucher's own
words.--Vide Varnhagen von Ense, "Blucher," p. 375.]